


Knockout

by SmileAndASong



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: 616 Day, Avengers Mansion, Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Sparring, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileAndASong/pseuds/SmileAndASong
Summary: Steve has always loved giving Tony sparring lessons, but this time, he’s having trouble focusing and it’s all Tony’s fault.





	Knockout

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually supposed to be a fill for a 2018 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange community prompt: "Steve’s too busy ogling Tony when they spar and Tony knocks him out and panics" I wasn't able to get it done for Christmas, but I did finish it in time for another great holiday -- 616 Day! Better late than never, I suppose!
> 
> I set this during volume 3, but that's mainly just because I wanted it to take place in the Mansion and without secret identities. 
> 
> My dear friend [sundaecherries](https://sundaecherries.tumblr.com/post/185645867218/some-quick-drawings-i-did-trying-to-replicate) also made some lovely art to go along with the fic, so please be sure to show her some love on tumblr if you like it. She deserves it! 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read! Happy 616 Day!

“You’re late,” Steve chastised as Tony finally walked into the gym, fifteen minutes past their scheduled meeting time.

“Maybe you’re just early,” Tony countered as he sauntered over to Steve. “Maybe time is just a relative concept, in a reality that we don’t technical-”

“--we agreed on three o-clock. And it’s three-seventeen, according to your wrist. So relative or not, in this reality, you’re late.” Steve eyed the flashy gold watch on Tony’s wrist, frowning. “And I told you no tech,”

“It’s a watch, Steve, I’d hardly consider this the cutting edge of technology.” Tony rolled his eyes, unclasping the watch from his wrist and carelessly tossing it aside.

Tony Stark was the only man Steve knew that could throw a solid gold watch on the ground like it was nothing. 

“It’s still tech and it’s only going to slow you down,” Steve insisted. “And the last thing you need is to get even slower than you’ve been lately.”

“Ouch. Low blow, Cap,” Tony said, huffing. “Besides, wait until you see the new armor I’m working on! It’s going to have a top speed that’ll rival even Quicksi-”

“And it will be entirely useless should you be stripped of it or if it fails on you,” Steve interrupted, his voice bored and his answer too immediate and too routine. Tony never seemed to learn.

“Come on, how many times has that _really_ happened?”

“According to my file on you, fourteen times,” Steve told him, wrapping his hands tightly with tape. He tossed the roll to Tony once he was done. “Which is frequent enough that you need to be constantly brushing up on your combat skills out of the suit.”

Tony caught the tape and began to wrap his own hands. “I’d like to see this so-called ‘file’ of yours. I’m sure I have more than a few discrepancies with it.” He looked up at Steve, smirking. “You know, if you wanted to get close to me, you don’t have to use combat training as an excuse.”

“Sweet-talking isn’t going to get you out of this, Tony.” But it was going to get a pink color to appear on Steve’s cheeks. He scratched a nonexistent itch in an effort to conceal it. “You’re long overdue for another lesson.”

“I’d rather you teach me a lesson in another room of the Mansion. Like your bedroom, perhaps?” Tony suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Steve in a ridiculous fashion.

“Do you honestly get dates with these terrible lines?” Steve asked, pretending that the line hadn’t worked on him. The more prominent shade of red across his cheeks said otherwise. “You know what, don’t answer that, we’ve wasted enough time talking. Hit me.”

“I didn’t peg you to be into that sort of thing. You always struck me as more of the vani-”

“ _Tony_.”

“Alright, whatever you say, Winghead.” Tony aimed a punch at Steve’s jaw, and Steve dodged it with ease. Tony stumbled forward, looking back at Steve with a bewildered look on his face. “I’m just getting warmed up. And I didn’t stretch either, I’ll have you know.”

Steve smirked. “Right, of course." He took a step back, keeping his hands at his side. “Try again. And this time I’ll even stand nice and still for you.”

“Well, aren’t you considerate.” Tony tried for an uppercut punch this time, and while it definitely was closer to landing a hit than his last one, it was still thwarted by Steve. He grabbed Tony’s forearm with his elbow and held him in place. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk every time you try and hit me,” Steve said, tightening his hold on Tony. “You just make yourself that much more predictable.”

Tony winced, struggling to break free from Steve’s tight grip. “Maybe you shouldn’t have such a stupidly handsome face. How am I supposed to hit something so perfect?”

“Perfect?” Steve mumbled and let Tony go, but Tony didn’t step back. He actually stepped closer. “Come on, let’s get serious here.”

“I _am_ being serious.” Tony started to circle around him, trying to look for an opening. “What, you think I’d joke about something like that?”

“Yes, I do.” Steve threw a punch of his own, and much to his surprise and delight, Tony parried it by catching him by the shoulder and holding him in place. 

They were close now, their faces mere inches apart. Steve was close enough that he could smell Tony’s cologne; the one with the absurdly long French name that had been his practical trademark scent for the past few years now. It blended seamlessly with the musky odor of perspiration that he could also see dripping from the ends of Tony’s dark hair. 

Speaking of his hair, it looked different. Shorter. Did Tony get a haircut? Maybe, it was hard to tell with it being slightly damp with sweat. Still, his hair did look nice --granted, Tony's hair always looked nice -- and it framed his face perfectly, like an elegant frame for a piece of fine art. 

_Focus, Rogers!_ , Steve thought to himself as he shook any and all hair-related thoughts out of his head and met Tony’s eyes. He stared intently into those brilliant blues, so full of determination and their attention fixated on Steve and Steve only. 

Steve all but melted under Tony's intense gaze, quickly regaining what was left of his wavering composure as he effortlessly freed himself Tony’s lock. 

Tony huffed, raising his fists back up to his face and shuffling closer. “That hurts, you know.”

“What, I didn’t pull back that hard,” Steve argued, and they circled each other again.

“No, no, not that,” Tony said dismissively. “I'm talking about the fact that you think I’m joking when I compliment you. You’re gorgeous, Steve.”

Steve’s feet stopped altogether and he froze, staring dumbly at Tony. 

Now _that_ was something Steve didn’t see coming.

Nor did he see the fist that was coming right at him until it collided with his face.

The impact of the punch, paired with those startling words, was enough to knock Steve down onto the mat. He was just barely able to hear what sounded like Tony frantically saying his name before everything around him faded to black and he lost consciousness.

XXXXX

“Steve! Steve, can you hear me?”

Opening his eyes slowly, Steve was greeted by the sight of a concerned-looking Tony, sitting beside him on his bed and clutching his hand tightly. 

Steve winced, gently touching the black and blue ringer that he was now sporting on his right eye. “Guess your hand to hand hasn’t gotten too shabby after all.”

Tony’s face softened and he breathed out a laugh. “I play a lot of tennis, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Steve said with a chuckle. “And you even remembered and used one of my most useful combat tips: distraction as a means to land a hit on your opponent.”

“ _Hit_ your opponent, not knock him out,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I’ve been freaking out for the past three hours! I thought I killed you or something.”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We both know I’m far too stubborn to die, especially because of a single punch and a cheap, shocking lie.”

Tony frowned and raised an eyebrow. “What lie?”

“‘You’re gorgeous, Steve.’.” Steve repeated, mimicking Tony’s voice in a high-pitched tone and earning a glare from the billionaire in response. “I think that packed an even bigger punch than your fist did.”

Tony sighed frustratedly. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not a lie. You _are_ gorgeous, Steve.”

Steve looked up at Tony, half-waiting for him to burst out laughing or tack on a ‘psyche!’, but it never came. Tony’s eyes were locked onto Steve with the very same undivided focus and attention in them that he had seen in their spar earlier. But now, there was also a softness, a sincerity, and a desire. A desire for him.

Steve’s lips quivered, struggling to form something smooth and sweet to say back, but all he could manage was “Uh, thanks...you too.” 

Despite the embarrassing attempt at a compliment, Tony still smiled at him and scooted closer. “You know, I think it’s high time that I give you a combat lesson of my own.”

“Oh yeah? And what might that be?” Steve inquired, daring to slide an arm around Tony’s waist.

“Mouth to mouth combat.”

“That’s not a thing, Tony.”

“Is too!” Tony leaned in, his lips hovering just above Steve’s as he spoke. “And I’d be more than happy to give you a lesson.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn down a chance to learn,” Steve said with a cheeky grin. “Let’s see if you can land another hit on me, Shellhead.”

“Let’s see indeed.”

And just like his powerful punch, Tony landed yet another hit on Steve, right on the lips in the form of a passionate, intimate kiss. But this time, Steve saw it coming. 

He kissed back eagerly, fully ready to engage in what would hopefully be his first of many “mouth to mouth” combat lessons with Tony Stark.


End file.
